


There's Always a Price

by MalikaiFlame



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Blackmail, Bondage, Canon Universe, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic Revealed, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Protective Arthur, Protectiveness, Torture, and vice versa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2018-11-07 23:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11069301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikaiFlame/pseuds/MalikaiFlame
Summary: Merlin awakes in the middle of the night, feeling that something is wrong. He then learns that Arthur has been captured, and by a person with sinister intentions. After receiving an ultimatum, Merlin leaves to rescue the king, only to discover that he had been the target all along.





	1. Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really excited to be sharing this fic! I have loved seeing new fanworks from the Merlin fandom over the last few years and decided it was time to contribute. I plan on updating weekly or every other week. It depends on how my job goes.
> 
> Marked as Rape/Non-Con for future chapters. No rape, but sexual non-con. So, heads up.
> 
> Prepare for a lot of whump, especially for Merlin.

Despite being blinded, Arthur fought against the hands that were pushing him down. He thought of remaining standing as a way of still having some control over a situation that he knew, deep down, he truly had no control over. 

_“Think.”_ Arthur thought desperately, _“What do you know?”_

He was somewhere dark. He had been able to see the sunlight through his blindfold earlier. Earlier? He suddenly recalled being knocked out at some point. As much as he tried willing it to happen, he couldn’t remember when the sunlight had turned into darkness. 

_“So much for being able to gauge the distance.”_ Arthur thought to himself, frustrated that he had fallen out of consciousness. 

There were at least six men. The shuffling of their boots indicated that, although they were strong, they were accustomed to fumbling around. With every bit of resistance Arthur gave, someone would trip or grunt in annoyance. It infuriated him that he could not fight against their brute strength despite his countless hours practicing in Camelot. He silently dreaded the feeling rising in his stomach: helplessness. 

At the thought, Arthur dug his feet into the ground and pushed back as hard as he could. That earned him a dizzying smack on the back of his head. He felt his knees buckle against his will as his head started to swim. The impact was way stronger than Arthur could have anticipated. For once, he was happy his face was covered. He could tell that the blow had brought involuntary tears to his eyes. 

“This would be much easier for you if you cut that out, Your Highness.” One of his captors sneered. To accompany his statement, he jerked Arthur’s arm forward forcefully. Arthur smothered a cry as he felt a muscle pull. He wouldn’t give these men the satisfaction. 

Before long Arthur was brutishly pulled to a stop and the blindfold was ripped off of his face. The blood, against Arthur’s will, drained from his face as he processed what he saw in front of him. 

He had been correct about the darkness. He appeared to have been led into a cave. Cloaked figures in deep maroon attire stood in a circle. Although Arthur knew nothing of magic, he knew that there could only be one intention with the painted symbols on the floor beneath them. In the middle of the figures stood a small man who, despite his weak demeanor, sent chills down Arthur’s spine. 

“Is that fear in your eyes I see, Your Highness?” The cloaked man in the middle of the circle asked in a soothing voice. As he walked towards Arthur he raised a frail, pale finger. Once within reach he cupped the king’s chin and began to stroke Arthur’s cheek gently. Arthur reacted out of instinct and violently reeled away from the tender touch. 

Almost instantly one of the men who had brought him here kicked the back of Arthur’s knees and made him fall forward at the cloaked man’s feet. He hissed as his face was forced up by someone gripping his hair and pulling back. He could feel his neck being strained by the angle. Infuriated, he had no choice but to look up. 

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Arthur spat through gritted teeth. 

His tormentor smirked and leaned forward until he was right in front of Arthur’s face. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw the man pull out a dagger. 

“Don’t worry, Your Highness" he sneered, “You are not the one we want.” 

Arthur began to struggle against the men holding him in place as he saw that the dagger was being brought closer to his face. After a rather one-sided skirmish, one of his captors had Arthur’s face in both of his hands while the others spread his arms out, completely immobilizing him. 

“Do it quick, Rion!” One of the Muscles whispered eagerly. 

Arthur continued to struggle, his efforts becoming more and more desperate as the dagger came to rest right underneath his eye. He winced as he felt skin break underneath its force. Although he was used to flesh wounds, the unknown motive that these people had made it sting more. His head was quickly released and he was hoisted to his feet. A small stream of blood from his wound made its way to his lips. The metallic taste worked as a reminder of the dishonor done to him. 

Rion then turned his attention away from the king. The blood on his dagger glimmered against the torches that were being used to provide light. Rion began chanting as he put some of the blood to his own lips. He then hit the top of the dagger and let the rest of Arthur’s blood fall onto a symbol painted on the ground. 

“You will regret ever…” Arthur began. 

“Tell me,” Rion said, cutting Arthur’s meek threat off, “How has your manservant been?” 

Arthur's thoughts stopped in their tracks. 

_“Merlin?”_


	2. Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin awakens in the night to a horrifying discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Thank you all for your comments and support. It really means a lot.

_“Arthur?”_

Merlin jolted up from the peaceful sleep he had been experiencing moments ago. He could tell that something wasn’t right. 

It was dark in his small room. Spending the entire day with Arthur had proven to be more draining than usual, seeing as Arthur had made it his personal mission for the day to have Merlin follow him everywhere he went. Upon returning to their chambers, he had fallen asleep before Gaius, but he assumed that Gaius had long passed out by the position of the moon in the night sky. Unable to shake his feeling of growing dread, he got up and walked towards the window. The outside world looked tranquil. He could hear the bugs making their typical, but comforting, hum. The brisk wind brushed past his face, as if greeting him as he leaned forward. The world was as it had always been.

But Merlin still felt an unidentifiable trepidation that kept his stomach in knots. 

Then the thought that had woken him up came back to him, as if a dream vaguely recalled. 

_“Arthur!”_

Merlin quickly left the window and threw on his shoes. He knew that it was unorthodox to leave his quarters until morning, but he knew that he would drive himself crazy if he remained where he was. He had to know that Arthur was safe. 

The door creaked in protest as Merlin turned the handle. He silently willed the door to make no further sound. He saw, and heard, Gaius sleeping a few feet away from him. Fortunately, Merlin assumed that any noise he made would be drowned out by the old healer’s snoring. Nonetheless, Merlin made his way across the room in a silent, but determined way. Within seconds he was in the hallway and heading towards Arthur’s chambers. 

By the time Merlin reached Arthur’s door, the knot in his stomach began to rise into his throat. More than anything he wanted to open the door and find Arthur asleep in his oversized bed. However, something told him that his king would not be there. Dreading what he might find, Merlin opened the door just a hair and peered inside. 

His heart skipped a beat. 

Arthur looked as peaceful as he always did when he was asleep. Relief filled Merlin to the brim as he opened the door farther. He wanted to just get closer to Arthur. To take in the alleviation of Arthur’s presence. If he awoke, Merlin would just make up some excuse. Arthur was always much more gullible when he was half asleep. 

Upon closer inspection, Merlin could find nothing wrong with his friend. Despite his valiant efforts to appear hard while he was awake, Arthur always looked so at peace while he slept. On multiple occasions, Merlin accidentally found himself staring at Arthur when he went to wake him in the mornings. Even when Arthur nagged at him for not waking him up on time, Merlin always found those few, secretive moments worth it. 

Smiling to himself, Merlin turned to head back to his own chambers. 

_“Merlin!”_

Merlin staggered at the force of his name. He turned quickly, thinking that Arthur had caught him, but Arthur’s sleeping form had not moved. A cold shiver went down his spine as he realized where the voice had come from: his own mind. 

He threw out a hand to brace himself against the wall that was closest to him as his head panged with another message. 

_“MERLIN!”_

“What?” Merlin yelled out-loud. _“What is happening?”_

Terrified, he ran over to Arthur’s bed. He could see Arthur. He could see him. Asleep. 

A sharp, agonizing spasm originated from Merlin’s head and made its way throughout the warlock’s body. Unable to support himself, he fell to the floor, gripping the sides of his head. 

_“Please!”_

Merlin had never heard Arthur plead like this before. He looked in horror at the sleeping Arthur, now above him. The juxtaposition of the peaceful Arthur before him and the desperate, pleading voice inside of him brought Merlin to the edge of uncontrollable horror. 

_“Arthur?!”_ Merlin cried desperately, clinging to the sides of his head. 

_“That’s enough for now.”_ Another, unknown voice answered. 

Merlin bristled at the unfamiliar sound. 

_“Let me talk to Arthur again.”_ Merlin demanded through this thoughts. 

_“I don’t think that would be in Our Highness’ best interest.”_ The voice replied cruelly. _“He’s already given quite a bit of blood as it is.”_

**Blood.** The following realization made his own run cold. 

Arthur was paying for this exchange with his blood.


	3. Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin does his best to find Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos. They really make my day! Let me know what you think of this new chapter.

He was given instructions. No. Orders. He was given orders. 

The unknown voice, who identified himself as Rion, had been exhaustive in explaining Merlin’s next steps. The faint moonlight continued to creep into Arthur’s room as he had sat there, fighting against the dull pain in his head, listening to Rion’s words. Merlin didn’t know what kind of magic was being used, but it was old. It was painful. All magic took a toll on the body, but as magic grew with time, it evolved. This magic, however, was impenitent. This was a magic that was callous. This magic was dangerous and Rion’s words, along with the remanence of the ancient magic, left a thud in his head after the connection had passed. It made sure he wouldn’t forget. 

He was to leave immediately. 

Merlin didn’t go back to Gaius’ room. He tried not to think about how his mentor would feel, awaking to find Merlin gone with his clothes and travelling supplies untouched. How Gaius would smother his worry with reason. How he would turn to Arthur for answers, but an imposter would be what greeted him. Merlin tried not to think about how Rion said that the fake “Arthur” would still be around. How it would wander the halls of Camelot, stealing Arthur’s role. How it would trick everyone into a false sense of security. How no one would know something was wrong. 

He was not to tell anyone where he was going. 

Merlin skipped past the stables. He was better able to cover his tracks without a horse. Also, a horse would hint that he had left, not disappeared. Search parties may be sent out. That was the last thing he, and by extension Arthur, needed. Merlin knew that this was not a typical threat, and the last thing he wanted to do was give this Rion a reason to do any further harm. 

Harm. 

The idea of not knowing Arthur’s situation scared him. Rion had said blood, but he knew Arthur. He knew the skills the young king possessed and that they were nothing to brush off. His talent with a sword often left everyone speechless, even during practice. Imagining whatever factors made Arthur incapable of fighting back made panic rise from Merlin’s gut. Not knowing Rion’s intentions only added to the fear. Every moment Merlin spent making his way towards the destination of Rion’s instructions was one where Arthur was still in danger. And not knowing the amount of danger is what shook Merlin to his core. 

He was to find a waterfall, at least a three-day’s ride north of Camelot. He was given a day to do so. 

Impossible for most, yes. But Merlin had magic and Rion somehow knew that. Not only that, but Rion wanted to test it. Merlin kicked a rock out of frustration. He hated being played with like this. He had all of the power and for what? To dance when commanded? 

Kilgharrah was his best bet. Merlin continued to walk a few more miles, the moon lighting his way. The only sound came from the nighttime bugs that loitered throughout the grass and from the plants crunching underneath his feet. The dew on the tall grass latched around his pant legs as he plowed through the fields that lead away from Camelot and the dirt was in the beginning stages of turning into mud, making his slip occasionally. It was vaguely uncomfortable, but there was more on Merlin’s mind than that. He wanted to get out a bit farther before summoning the Great Dragon. 

Merlin came to a clearing. It was the same clearing he always tried to come to to contact Kilgharrah. He again took in the feeling of the night. It looked the same as any other occasion. Quiet. Tranquil. He felt as if all the anxiety of the land had been absorbed to and concentrated within his small frame, drawn to him against his will. The night was deceitfully calm. 

Gathering his will, and his magic, Merlin took a deep breath. He planted his feet in the ground, determination filling every fiber of his body. He could feel his magic dancing throughout his veins, leaving a comfortable burn in its wake. 

“O DRAKON, E MALE SO FTENGOMETTA TESD’HUP’ANANKES!” Merlin roared. 

And he waited. 

And nothing happened. 

A slight breeze twisted through his hair, as if trying to comfort him. Merlin groaned in frustration. 

“Oh, COME ON!” Merlin yelled into the sky. “NO TRICKS OR GAMES TODAY! I NEED YOUR HELP!” 

Again, the quiet of the night swallowed his words and turned them into silence. Forgetting that the ground was wet, Merlin lowered himself to the ground, allowing the tall grass to consume him. He knew that Kilgharrah had to come when summoned, but the amount of time the dragon took was to his discretion, which was an annoyingly convenient loophole in the spell. 

_“Ah, the wonders of being the Last Dragonlord.”_ Merlin thought bitterly. 

After a few minutes passed, Merlin felt the wind beginning to pick up. In the distance, he saw a massive black shadow block the moonlight as it came closer. The trees bent under the pressure as strong gales pressed against them. Merlin stood, his clothes whipping around him. He did his best to keep the flailing neckerchief from hitting his eyes as he watched the dragon land. 

“We need to go East.” Merlin stated right as Kilgharrah was within hearing range. He was not in the mood to give the dragon a welcome. 

“Come now, Merlin. If you asked nicely, I would be more inclined to oblige.” Kilgharrah huffed, leaning down so Merlin could get onto his back. 

“Arthur’s in danger. I need to get to a waterfall three days East.” Merlin continued, ignoring the dragon’s statement. 

“There will be a trap waiting for you, Merlin.” Kilgharrah hummed softly. 

“Yeah?” Merlin asked, “What’s waiting for me?” Despite being upset, his nervousness took control of the conversation. 

“I cannot tell you what is awaiting you, Young Warlock. I just know that something sinister is." 

“Glorified horse.” Merlin mumbled under his breath. 

___________________ 

Merlin made sure to have Kilgharrah land far enough away from the waterfall so he would not be detected. The last thing he needed was to have Rion know that he had access to an honest-to-god dragon in his pocket, especially when Merlin had no grounds fight back with. If Rion learned about Kilgharrah, Merlin wouldn’t be able to stop him from using Arthur against him. He would have to do whatever Rion wanted with Kilgharrah, and he couldn’t let that happen. 

The world around him was quiet, just as it had been while he waited for Kilgharrah. But this was a different kind of quiet. The kind of quiet where the sound of cicadas was sorely missed and where the silence was all-consuming. Merlin’s own breath sounded thunderous in comparison. 

Conscious to stay low to the ground, Merlin made his way towards the waterfall’s entrance. He was quite pleased with himself. He didn’t slip on any rocks or make any note-worthy noise. His stealth must have increased significantly since beginning his service with Arthur. 

Upon nearing the waterfall, he could see a dark cave hidden by the cascading water. Reaching out his neck to get closer, all he could see was darkness within. 

A snap came directly from behind him. Merlin whipped around, hand at the ready, but the earth had become quiet again. His gaze lingered for a few moments, his eyes squinting in anxious concentration. He froze, accounting for his surroundings with intense scrutiny. He didn’t trust the silence. 

All of a sudden, thunderous footsteps came from his other side, crashing through the water. Before Merlin had a chance to turn around his eyes began to swim with darkness seeping from the sides of his vision. His knees buckled as a second blow came from behind and he fell to the ground. Confused, he tenderly touched the back of his head, only to find his fingers covered with blood upon their return to his sights. He barely had a chance to register that meant he had been hit before three? Three pairs of boots came into view. His mind was screaming, but he couldn’t move. His helplessness was his final thought as his last, feeble attempt at consciousness failed. 


	4. Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, WOW. Finally posted this bad boy. Thank you to all of you who have been checking out this fic and leaving your comments and kudos. Trust me, they were a HUGE motivator in finishing this chapter! I put a whole lot of whump and angst in this chapter to make up for it. With that being said, I don't know when the next chapter will be finished. Like, no idea. I hope that this chapter makes you feel like the wait was worth it. Again, it means a lot to me that you all are interested!
> 
> PS: The non-con is in this chapter, but it's sexual touching. This is as much non-con as it gets.

Now, Arthur wasn’t ever particularly thrilled by Merlin’s awakening methods. He often found himself fighting against the silk blankets as they were being pulled away, the warmth and the realm of sleep leaving with them. However, it was never to any avail. Merlin was nothing if not determined. He would start chattering away about Arthur’s responsibilities of the day, typically with a quip of some kind. The way he buzzed around his room in the mornings… Merlin made Arthur feel the same way he did about mosquitoes: irritated. 

But he would have chosen that kind of awakening to the one he received. 

The door to his cell squeaked open, alerting him that someone was entering. He didn’t have enough time to register his surroundings before an intense pain came to his gut. Still groggy. Half asleep. He tried this best to get to his feet and in a defensive stance, gripping his chest and anticipating another blow. Since Arthur's initial arrival, he had been relatively untouched, so the sudden assault really came as a surprise. Before he could gather what was going on, someone ripped his arm behind his back. He hissed, remembering that his shoulder had already been injured.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Your _Highness._ ” Jezep, one of the men, sneered as he pulled Arthur’s arm farther back on the last word. Arthur let out a small grunt in pain. He felt rope beginning to coil around his hands and made a split decision to let it happen, knowing that at this point he had to choose his battles and this was not one of them.

He and Jezep had a quaint relationship, Arthur thought. The guy was sweaty, crass, and hated Arthur with every oversized muscle in his body. Arthur would make verbal jabs at the guy from within his dingy cell and Jezep would threaten to kill him. He had enjoyed their little talks, but now that there weren’t any bars between them, Arthur found himself mildly intimidated by the man.

As Arthur was being shoved up the cellar stairs to, he assumed, Rion, all he could think about was Merlin. The manservant was all he had been able to think about since his name passed Rion’s lips. Just the idea of Merlin being on this wizard’s mind didn’t sit right with him, and not knowing what Rion wanted with him drove Arthur to the edge. However, the thing that haunted him the most…

_Why can’t I do anything about it?_

Arthur went limp has he was being maneuvered up the stairs, attempting to at least frustrate his captors. It was more to be an annoyance and was rather childish, but Arthur hated the idea of being completely complacent. In such a narrow space, it turned out to be rather effective. One of the men slipped out from behind him, ill-prepared for the sudden amount of weight. The man grabbed onto the nearest object which, unfortunately, was Arthur. Arthur tried to reach out as well, only to feel the burn of ropes holding his arms back.

His stomach flipped as he fell backwards. He tried to put weight back on his legs, but it was too late. A sharp crack echoed as his head hit the stone floor. He knew it must have been his, but it sounded distant; outside of his body. His eyes swam as he tried to focus in on the figure hovering over him.

It was Jezep.

Arthur pressed his eyes shut as his face was kicked into the ground.

“Pull somethin’ like that again and I’ll make sure your lights stay out. You get it?” Jezep hissed into his ear. Every fiber in Arthur wanted to fight back, but he could barely think. Arthur’s vision blurred again as he attempted a nod. Jezep leaned in closer, pulling his head back by his hair, “I just need a reason.”

Arthur had a hard time keeping up for the rest of the trip. He wanted to memorize the interior architecture of the cave, but it took all of his concentration to remain conscious. The pain from the back of his head started to become a pulsating thud and it was all Arthur could think about. It seemed like ages before he was brought to a place he recognized: the magical circle where the wizard Rion had performed that ritual. Where Arthur had heard Merlin’s voice.

_The wizard._

Arthur jerked his head, desperately searching the room for the wizard. Rion’s voice reached Arthur before he could find him.

“You look quite worse for wear, Your Highness.” Rion stated coolly, seemingly unphased by the prince’s condition.

“Yeah?” Arthur sniped. “That’s too bad because I put a lot of effort into my appearance this morning.”

“I would think you would. I’ve received word that we’re having our guest today.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold.

_Merlin…_

A low creak filled the room as two men came in. Between them was Merlin. Arthur could see him trying to stand, his legs giving out from under him. The side of his friend’s face was covered in blood. Blood that still looked fresh. Arthur blanched.

Arthur’s vision filled with rage as the men raised Merlin’s arms above his head and locked cuffs around his slender wrists. When they finished, the men let Merlin go, his arms growing taut as his hands took on the entire weight of his body. A quiet hiss came from Merlin’s lips.

Arthur released tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Merlin was alive. What scared Arthur the most, however, was how Merlin did not give any resistance. Merlin’s eyes were open, with a quiet, burning rage, but that seemed to be all that he could muster.

Merlin could barely touch the ground, his toes stretched desperately, occasionally faintly landing on the cold surface below him.

“My…” Rion whispered, gently gripping Merlin’s face, “You are a pretty boy. In my visions, you were always much older, Emrys.” Rion dug his nails into Merlin’s flesh, turning his head while admiring the young man’s face.

“Merlin.” Merlin spat, the chains slowly rocking from the force. “My name is Merlin.”

Arthur silently willed him to stop. Arthur was used to taking on bigger men, often multiple bigger men, and had been trained to deal with abduction scenarios. As the son of the king of Camelot, it came with the territory. But Merlin… Merlin looked so feeble compared to the men surrounding them.

“Merlin?” Rion laughed. “Such an underwhelming name. I guess it does match your underwhelming guise.”

Merlin pulled his head back, seemingly repulsed by the wizard. Arthur tried again to stand up, uncomfortable with Rion’s attention on Merlin.

“If you move again Your Highness, I will make this much worse than it has to be.” Rion threatened, never taking his eyes off Merlin.

“Arthur?” Merlin panicked. Arthur watched helplessly as Merlin slowly started to register where he was. He searched fearfully until their eyes met. Arthur saw Merlin’s hands clench into fists. Arthur narrowed his eyes, trying to communicate:

_I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ll get us out of this. For god’s sake, don’t do anything stupid._

Apparently, that message didn’t get across.

“NO!” Merlin roared, straining against the restraints, “You have no idea what I will do to you!”

“Shhh.” Rion cooed, completely unperturbed by Merlin’s outrage. Merlin stiffened as Rion ran his bony fingers through his hair, only to coil them in at Merlin’s nape and pull back. Merlin fought back a sound, refusing to give Rion any satisfaction.

“You are beautiful.” Rion whispered quietly. Arthur strained forward, growing more and more protective of Merlin. Feeling more and more helpless. “And you are special.”

Rion’s hands continued to explore Merlin’s body. Arthur followed Rion’s fingers, thinking of what he would do to them when he finally got a hold of this monster. He could see Merlin starting to shake. Merlin’s fear enraged him. Arthur could hear Merlin take a sharp intake of breath as Rion grazed over a small piece of Merlin’s midriff that had become exposed. That small piece of Merlin’s skin Arthur would see whenever Merlin reached down to grab clothes Arthur had thrown onto the ground. Whenever Arthur helped Merlin get back up during his practices with the sword. Whenever Merlin stretched as he tiredly made his way back to Gaius’ chambers at the end of the day.

“Sorry, but I think you might be a little too old for me.” Merlin said jokingly, but there was a tremor if his voice that gave his fear away.

“I don’t want your body, Merlin.” Rion hissed, “I want something much more valuable.”

Before Arthur or Merlin could react, Rion snatched Merlin’s face between his hands and forced his mouth onto Merlin’s. A bright light began to form between their lips and Merlin started to scream. Arthur watched in horror as Merlin’s body started to writhe. Red blood began to gather as Merlin strained against his chains. Rion dug his nails in deeper to Merlin’s face, curling into his cheekbones and holding him in place.

Arthur heard a voice shouting.

“STOP!”

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

Perhaps it was because he was unaccustomed to hearing himself beg, but it slowly dawned on Arthur that it was his own voice. His own pleading. His own begging. He never begged, but he would for Merlin. Without question.

“MERLIN!”

“ARTHUR! CLOSE YOUR EYES!” Merlin shrieked through Rion’s lips.

Arthur knew to listen and forced himself to look away


	5. Merlin

Merlin squeezed his eyes together, something was stinging when he tried to open them. At some point, he had lost track of time. He couldn’t remember how long he had been hanging by these shackles. He couldn’t remember when his body wasn’t in pain. He couldn’t remember when Arthur had been taken away. Despite his confusion, however, he remembered that Arthur had struggled against those holding him the entire way. He also remembered that Arthur was still there, somewhere. He remembered that he needed to stay awake. Conscious. He needed to focus. 

Most fearful of all was that he couldn’t remember when he had felt so weak. 

He had never realized how his magic had flown through his body. How it coursed through his veins and strengthened every fiber of his being. It was a comfort that he never truly recognized because it had always been with him. He never thought he would have to know otherwise. But now… now he felt like nothing. Defenseless. Unprotected. 

Weak. 

Whatever Rion had done was ancient. A magic that Merlin was unfamiliar with. The type of magic Gaius shied away from whenever Merlin brought it up. The type of magic his mother quietly begged him not to mention. It was a magic that came with fury and left with agony in its wake. From within, Merlin had felt this magic wage war throughout his body. He felt his own magic fighting back. A battle within his being. A battle he felt his magic lose. 

“Are you back with us, Emrys?” 

Merlin jerked awake, not realizing he had started falling unconscious in the first place. 

“ _Merlin_.” He hissed, stretching his feet to find some baring. 

“Still so snide.” Rion chided. “I admire your spirit, Emrys, but I feel as if you are no longer in a position to be.”

Rion reached above his head.

“Wh… What are you doing?” Merlin stuttered, his voice slightly raised in panic. The chains rattled as he fought against their hold.

“Tell me, Emrys…” Rion whispered as he leaned forward. “What is it like to hold all of this power?”

A sickening crack filled the room. Merlin’s vision when white with pain and a scream escaped his mouth before he could stop it. Terrified, he looked up to his hands. His pointer finger was bent. Not right. Merlin tentatively tried to move it, only to have a shot of pain ring throughout his body. He gasped.

“I can feel your magic, Emrys.” Rion taunted. “I feel it reaching out to you, but it belongs to me now. And I need you to tell me how to use it.”

_Another crack._

A whimper was all that passed through Merlin.

“No.”

_Another crack._

“I’ll never tell you anything!” Merlin snarled, trying to catch his breath.  
“Well, that may be unfortunate.” Rion pouted with fake sympathy. “When I finish with your fingers, there’s always that king of yours.”

Merlin’s eyes widened in horror. He could barely hear Rion over the terror raging through his mind.

“Is he fortunate enough to have all of his fingers still?”

“I will kill you.”

“How?” Rion laughed.

_Another crack._

Merlin felt his head fall forward, the relief of unconsciousness reaching out to him. Merlin reached back, welcoming it.

“No, no, no, young warlock.” Rion chided. Merlin felt the side of his face start to sting. A slap. “You don’t get out that easily.”

“I don’t know… Please. I don’t know.” Merlin panted. “I can’t… what are you asking me?”

Pain was all that Merlin could remember at this point. It overwhelmed his senses. He couldn’t concentrate on Rion’s questions. He had long forgotten trying to stand. He now resigned to letting his body swing whatever direction Rion’s blows sent him.

“Are you toying with me, Emrys?” Rion snarled, slapping Merlin again. “How. Do. I. Make. Your. Magic. OBEY?”

The question was so foreign to Merlin. Make his magic obey? He had never felt he had to fight against his magic. It had been a part of him; another limb. A sense of oneness. It was never anything he felt was out of his control. Not to say that it always worked. He had to train it, as one would with any skill. But obey? As if it was something wild that needed to be tamed?

“I don’t underst--.”

_Another crack._

A loud sob rang out, his voice bouncing back off the walls and back at him, as if laughing.

“One hand down. Not many chances left…”

Rion pulled down on Merlin’s arm, forcing more weight on his now-broken fingers. Merlin’s screams turned to pleading as Rion continued to jerk Merlin downwards. Merlin wanted Arthur. Every part of him was silently begging him to call for him. But he knew he couldn’t. Arthur couldn’t save him, but Arthur would try, and Merlin would never let Rion get enjoyment at Arthur’s expense.

“PLEASE! I DON’T KNOW!” Merlin cried. “I DON’T KNOW!”

Release.

Merlin could feel himself shaking. Heaving. His body trying desperately to refill his lungs. His legs were no longer capable of holding any weight and he could feel his hand throbbing; each finger pulsating at it’s own excruciating pace.

Rion leaned in. Merlin flinched as Rion raised his hands up. He expected another slap, but instead, Rion reached to cup the sides of Merlin’s face. The embrace was soft. Merlin may have even risked to call it loving. Somehow, that frightened Merlin more. Rion offered a soft smile as he brushed a small curl of Merlin’s hair out of the way.

“That answer is unacceptable.”

_Another crack._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been INSPIRED these last few weeks. I hope to have some more chapters ready soon! Enjoy.


	6. Arthur

When Arthur was nine years old, he had his first sparring match.

__

_It wasn’t planned. Arthur had been walking past, planning on exploring the surrounding fields, when he heard one of the horses whinny. It sounded distressed. Worried, Arthur changed his path and made way to the stables, just to check and make sure everything was okay._

_The door creaked open, and the unpleasant, yet comforting, smell of horses met him. Arthur looked around, trying to figure out which one of the knights’ horses had made the noise. Up ahead, he saw a small child leaning over one of the stall doors. A small child with a stick._

_Arthur squinted in confusion. There weren’t ever any children here. But then he remembered: Everett. Everett’s father had business with his. Uther had insisted that Arthur get acquainted with the kid. But Arthur didn’t like him. Arthur saw how he talked to his servants. Rude. Arthur didn’t like that at all._

_Everett raised the stick and brought it down with force. It hit flesh and another whinny filled the air. Arthur felt his face become hot with anger. Everett was hitting one of HIS horses._

_“Hey!” Arthur yelled._

_Everett looked up, surprised. When he recognized it was Arthur, Everett smiled._

_“Hey, Arthur! Grab a stick!”_

_“What are you doing?” Arthur gawked. “Why are you hitting Bella?”_

_“I don’t know why you bother naming them.” Everett laughed. “My father told me that they are just animals. No point in a name. It’s stupid.” Everett raised the stick again._

_“Stop!” Arthur growled, grabbing Everett’s stick. “Don’t do that.”_

_Everett yanked the stick from Arthur’s grip and, in the same stride, pushed Arthur backwards. Unprepared, Arthur tripped and fell onto the stable’s floor._

_Before his logic could catch up with his anger, Arthur grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it in Everett’s face. The boy yelled and jumped on top of Arthur, hitting him with the same stick. Raising his hands up in defense, Arthur grabbed a hold of the stick and managed to snap it in half. Quickly, he raised the newly-obtained half to meet Everett’s. The two of them wrestled until Arthur suddenly felt himself becoming weightless. It took him a few moments to realize that it was his father lifting him._

_“What is this?” Uther roared. Terrified, Everett scurried away, but Uther was not interested in some other person’s son. Arthur felt the sharp sting as his father slapped him._

_“I’m sorry, Father.” Arthur hiccupped. “He… he was hitting Bella.”_

_“Why are you crying?” Uther berated. “For god’s sake, wipe that mess off of your face, Arthur. Kings do not cry.”_

____

That was the first time Arthur had felt weak.  


_________________________ 

When Arthur was eleven years old, he learned what death meant.

_James was a Knight on his father’s court. He was a big, meaty guy. The kind of person that tended to put people off. His arms were the size of tree trunks and the ground shook as he walked, but he was like a gentle giant. Arthur loved waiting outside his father’s courtroom as the Knights met, knowing that James would come out afterwards and give Arthur one of the best smiles._

_Whenever they were all called to gather, Arthur would find his place at his father’s side. The Knights would line the walls. The entire time, Arthur would fight the urge to scratch at the itchy fabric of his dress clothes and daydream about the meals being prepared as they sat, dragging on about various royal matters. James always managed to catch his eye though and again, Arthur would catch a smile._

_The Knights always left for scouting trips. Each Knight had duty twice a week. Arthur had long memorized James’ routine and would meet him at the gate to see him off. James performed his usual act of pretending to be surprised that Arthur had come. James gave Arthur a playful hair ruffle, like he did every time he left. Arthur watched as they made their way to the border, excited for the day he would be able to join them._

_Word had reached the castle that there had been an ambush. Common, low-level bandits. There was a whisper about magic. Arthur overheard the messenger tell Uther that the Knights had made quick work of them. They weren’t armed with much and clearly were not trained to deal with the Knights. Arthur felt himself swell with pride, knowing that James had been a part. He knew the Knights would return in an hour or so, so he made his way to the gate, eager to hear James tell the story._

____

_Arthur had watched as the Knights came back through the castle gate, waiting._

_But James never came back._

_There had been a funeral, but Arthur didn’t go._

That was the second time Arthur had felt weak.  


_________________________ 

When Arthur was twenty-five, he realized that your heroes can fail you.

_Arthur felt the cold before he saw his father. A wave of dread started at his wrists and he felt it travel all the way up to the base of his neck. With fear making every muscle in his body stiff, Arthur turned to find his father sitting on the throne._

_“I did not spend my entire life building this kingdom to see my son destroy it.”_

_His father’s words left nothing but anguish in their wake, but Arthur had long learned to hide your feelings. Because kings do not cry. Instead, he steeled his gaze and held his father’s stare._

_“You put too much trust in other people.”_

_Gauis. Leon. Gwaine._

_Guinevere._

**Merlin.**

_He knew his father was wrong._

_“Camelot must come before all else, even you.”_

_Before Arthur could react, he felt something slam into the side of his head. He fell to the ground, shocked. As unconsciousness reached out to him, he could have sworn that someone else had walked into the room. Then his world went dark._

_When he came to, the room was warm. Arthur bolted up, searching for his father. There were two dull thuds from the direction of the armory. Feeling the fear building up within him again, Arthur bolted towards the noise, knowing what he would have to do, yet dreading it. His knuckles went white as he gripped the horn tighter._

__

__

_Arthur turned the corner and saw Merlin’s small frame against the back wall. He couldn’t move. Cornered by the ghost of his father. Uther stood between them, a hostile force that threatened everything that Arthur had planned and everything that Arthur loved._

_“Arthur… no. Please!”_

_The horn was brought to his lips._

_There are no words to describe this pain. When a pain is so true, so pure, and so raw that it resides the soul. Not the body. The soul. It coils and constricts. An agonizing strangling. And there is drowning. Where the inside is filled with screams and pleads for the surface. For a release, but it is just dragged down. Swallowed. Where the heart aches so badly that it would be a relief if it would just stop beating all together. But it didn’t._

_He should have never looked back._

_Uther’s form disappeared, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone. They stared at one another, both could see the tears in the other’s eyes. Both unsure of what to say. Neither wanting to speak. Silently, Arthur began tugging at the wooden poles that had been lodged deeply into the wall. Arthur’s eyes stung as he thought about how close they had gotten to hitting Merlin. Thinking of what Merlin thought of him now. What his father had been planning to do. Would have done. If Arthur had been unconscious for even a second longer, his father may have managed to take Merlin away from him._

_Arthur had had to bury his father’s body into the earth, but now he had to bury the image of the father that he thought he knew._

That was the third time Arthur had felt weak. 

_________________________ 

Merlin’s screams had stopped hours ago. They had been replaced by a tangible static hum, where the ringing in Arthur’s ears became stronger and stronger and Arthur’s dread was building with every moment. Merlin’s silence terrified Arthur more than the screaming had. If Merlin was screaming, at least he had the energy to do so. Even though each sent a wave of fury through Arthur, he knew it meant he was still alive. If Merlin was silent… Arthur feared to think why.

Arthur rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly. He rolled it, trying to work out the pain.

When Arthur had first been dragged back into this cell, he had been livid with anger, which was fueled by an even stronger agent: fear. He had yelled, threatened, and kicked at the retreating guards as they locked the door and left. They had left him alone to wear himself out. And he had. Repeatedly, he threw himself against the cell’s bars. He had been so blind in his rage that he didn’t notice the bruising that had been forming from the repeated impacts. 

Now he found himself pacing, like a caged animal, waiting for the moment someone would come back. Waiting for the moment when someone would mess up. Underestimate him. A wrong step here. Arthur was poised and ready. When that moment came, he would bring nothing but hell upon these people. He would get Merlin home, safely. And he would make sure that nothing stopped Merlin from getting help.

He couldn’t gauge the passage of time in any way except for the growing aches in his body. What started out as a fierce resistance slowly found its way to calculated defiance. Discomfort had started to set in. Arthur began to feel a dull throb in his knees. His feet were cramping and his back was starting to go stiff. However, he remained alert. Ready. 

At least he thought he was, until the guards reappeared with Merlin’s deadweight shared between them. 

“Get back!” Jezep ordered.

Seething with anger, Arthur obeyed. He didn’t want his defiance to provoke Jezep into hurting Merlin more. Not when Merlin was completely defenseless. The door swung open and, with a sneer, Jezep threw Merlin’s limp body towards the cell floor.

“What did you do to him?” Arthur roared, catching Merlin before his body could make impact. His heart was drumming too loud to hear an answer. Desperately, he began searching Merlin’s body, trying to find what had been done to him. His skin, which had always been pale, was now translucent. Every bruise, every cut, every injustice done to Merlin was made glaringly prominent. Arthur bit back a gasped when he felt how clammy he was. Pushing his horror down, Arthur grasped the sides of Merlin’s face and tried to get him to focus.

“Merlin!” Arthur whispered, his voice cracking, “Merlin, please look at me.”

Arthur gently shook his friend, but Merlin just rocked at the force. No response. But Arthur saw that Merlin’s eyes were open. His eyes, which had always been beaming with an inner brightness, stared off as if the soul behind them was empty. Arthur had never noticed their light really, until now. Until it was gone. Merlin didn’t even look at him. There was no acknowledgement that Merlin had even heard him.

Fighting his growing panic, Arthur gripped Merlin’s arms tighter. 

Merlin’s eyes shifted to look at Arthur and Arthur felt himself go slack with relief, until he looked closer. Although Merlin was looking at him, there was no recognition. His gaze was blank. Merlin was in complete shock. Arthur’s breath caught in this throat. Fearing he would frighten Merlin more, Arthur turned his face in order to hide his reaction. He reached for some of the bedding, which was nothing more than a woven sack, to throw around Merlin’s shoulders.

Suddenly, Merlin’s cry filled the cell.

Horrified, Arthur whipped around to see Merlin staring at his hands, terror made clear on every aspect of his face. He followed Merlin’s gaze, only to find himself reeling as well.

Arthur felt bile rise in his throat as he took a closer look at Merlin’s hands. They had swollen to a point where they were at least twice as large as they should have been. They were blotched with purple, blue, and red. They had already started to glisten and they were all bent. Not a single one looked untouched. 

Those bastards had broken each of his fingers. 

Arthur dashed to Merlin’s side, reaching for his hands. As soon as Arthur got close, Merlin shoved Arthur away from him and backed himself into a corner of the cell. He radiated with fear. That’s when the hyperventilation started. Merlin’s chest began to bellow as a strangled noise came from Merlin’s mouth as he tried desperately to breath. Merlin tried to clutch as his shirt, only to multiply his terror when he realized he couldn’t move his fingers.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Arthur coaxed. “Stop. It’s okay! It’s okay. I’ll fix this.”

Merlin looked up at Arthur and Arthur could have sworn there was a brief moment of clarity. Arthur cautiously reached out and cupped the side of Merlin’s face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. After a few minutes, Merlin seemed to calm back down. Whimpering, Merlin let himself go a little lax as Arthur gently gripped one of his hands.

“Merlin.” Arthur started, his voice shaking. “They need to be reset.”

Something sparked behind Merlin’s eyes, because he suddenly tried to rip his hand away from Arthur.

“I need to do it, Merlin!” Arthur reprimanded harshly, his frustration rising to the surface. But he knew that frustration wasn’t at Merlin, and that Merlin was in shock. Arthur recalibrated and tried again.

“You know it will be worse if we don’t. You’ve worked with Gauis enough to know how broken fingers work.” Arthur said, hoping that the mention of Merlin’s mentor would bring him some relief.

Arthur’s words seemed to register with Merlin. Slowly, Merlin offered his hand to Arthur, who felt his own dismay rising as he reached out too. He gripped Merlin’s hand tightly and lined himself up until Arthur’s back was to Merlin’s face and Merlin’s arm was wrapped around Arthur’s side so that it was straight. Arthur took a shaky breath, preparing himself for what he had to do. Before Merlin could pull away, Arthur lined up the first finger and pushed.

Merlin let out a sob and wrenched his arm back. Arthur gripped tighter, refusing to go. He knew Merlin couldn’t help it. It was purely instinctual at this point. He just wanted to stop the pain. After a few moments of crying, Arthur felt Merlin go slack. His head fell onto Arthur’s back and rolled to the side. 

“I’m so sorry, Merlin.” Arthur choked as he mentally prepared himself for the next finger.  


__________________________ 

Arthur took another strip of cloth off of his shirt and wrapped it around the last few pieces of wood he had taken from the bed frame. It had been agonizing, but it was done. Arthur had tried to keep Merlin awake, pausing to bring Merlin back whenever he felt Merlin’s weight fall onto his back. But eventually he had decided that being unconscious for this was a blessing. At least when Merlin passed out, he wasn’t shouting in pain or begging Arthur to stop.

As he laid his friend down, Arthur gently wrapped his arms around Merlin’s frail body. He feared to breathe, afraid that any movement would break Merlin, or scare him again. Arthur felt better, knowing that Merlin was secured on both sides. With him facing the solid, cold wall of the cell and with Arthur on the other side, nothing could get to him without a fight. At the thought, quiet anger boiled in Arthur’s gut as he pulled himself closer, his chest meeting Merlin’s back. He could feel Merlin quivering. A small tremor that made Arthur’s whole world shake.

Arthur swore to himself that this was the last time he would ever feel weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is a fairly long chapter, by my usual standards, for you all! This story is getting pretty heated up. My friend and I were laughing that this is just non-stop whump, and they do have a very valid point.


	7. Merlin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. I wasn't able to get as artistic as I wanted for this chapter. I couldn't figure out how to get text all the way to the right side of the page (if any of you know how, totally let me know!). 
> 
> Also, remember when I said that I wasn't sure when I would be updating again? That was a good joke. Y'all... I have been on a role recently. I am a few chapters ahead of schedule and just reached 12,000 words this week. I can't wait to share it with you all and your kudos and comments have really kept the flow going!

There was something with him. Something that was poking. It was gentle, but it was distracting. Any time Merlin would feel his mind start to wander off, further into the realm of sleep, this force would probe. Gentle, but firm and determined. Merlin felt himself wade through thick layers of thoughts. Thoughts that were so hard to process that they felt tangible. And he felt tired. 

He thought Arthur was there, but that wouldn’t have made sense. Arthur was outside of his head. Arthur couldn’t be in his head. Or was Merlin awake? At some point, Merlin lost track of when he was awake and when he was sleeping. It was too hard to keep it all organized. Instead, his mind shot off their ramblings, which ran wild and unchecked, creating a flurry that Merlin felt himself drowning in. 

There was a moment when he felt the cold surrounding him. But there was warmth too. Behind him. Merlin turned his neck, gasping from the pain that came from the small movement. But it was enough. 

_Arthur?_

But that was all he had been able to manage before his head dropped back down to the stone floor and he fell back into the darkness. 

And the prodding. 

Merlin was starting to lose his patience. All he wanted to do was rest. 

_ But it kept POKING.  _

**Merlin.**

where is arthur 

_Please, I just want to rest._

  
_when did I get on the floor_

**Merlin.**  


_Stop talking!_

He could feel his head aching. There was a dull strain concentrated in his forehead and it felt like something was tugging on the backs of his eyes. Every inch of his body was in pain. He didn’t even realize that he was shaking until he felt Arthur’s arm firmly pull his body closer. Merlin tried to concentrate on that. To make Arthur his center of gravity. Where he was safe. And he could rest.

Then, the haze suddenly cleared. The realization sent him reeling.

_Kilgharrah?_

The presence inside of his head grew warm. It almost seemed to purr.

_Yes, young warlock._

Merlin’s own presence responded, relaxing into the dragon’s aura. Kilgharrah reached out to him as well. Merlin felt himself become encompassed.

_How… How are you able to talk to me? The wizard..._

The sadness attacked quickly and powerfully, threatening to overtake him.

_The wizard took my magic._

There was a pause. With their consciousnesses so connected, Merlin could feel Kilgharrah’s mind processing, the dragon’s own thoughts buzzing; thinking of what to say.

_Take comfort. You are the Last Dragonlord, Merlin. This is not something given to you by magic, but by blood. Our connection is from your father, which is something this wizard cannot steal._

Kilgharrah’s words hit Merlin at his core. Merlin felt pain, but the kind that came from happiness and love, not from malice. His father. Nothing could take that gift away from him. Something as innate and natural as his magic could be stolen, but not his father. It was a connection that would never be able to be broken.

_So, what you’re saying is that I will never be able to get rid of you?_

Kilgharrah hummed.

_No. It seems you cannot._

The two of them sat with the thought for a few moments, both reflecting on the meaning of those words. Both seemed content on the pause, until Merlin broke the silence.

_I can’t leave. Rion has my magic._

He felt Kilgharrah’s silent agreement.

_I am aware._

Merlin’s next words hurt to say.

_You can’t come. Not yet._ Merlin paused, feeling a lump rise in his throat. _I’m scared._

_The road ahead of you is a very painful one, young warlock, and I do not envy you, but I will be present. And listening._

The thought of what was to come, and what he would have to do, made Merlin feel queasy. He wanted to leave. In moments, Kilgharrah would be able to storm Rion’s hideout and get him and Arthur out and safe. But Merlin knew that he had a responsibility and the idea of living the rest of his life without magic almost seemed more daunting than staying and facing Rion.

Knowing that Kilgharrah was close by would have to be enough for him right now. Just knowing that the dragon would be there the moment Merlin called for him was already starting to give Merlin a newfound strength. A strength so powerful that Merlin felt like he finally had a chance. He felt the dread that had been built up in his stomach uncoil.

_Sleep, Merlin. Know that I will be waiting._


	8. Arthur

Arthur would have liked to have said that he was able to sleep, but that would have been a lie. 

Every creak. Every whisper. Every time Merlin shifted underneath him, Arthur had bolted awake, as if a shock had been sent through him, on high alert and poised to strike.

And then there were Merlin’s fits. His body would seize and it would tear at Arthur’s heart because all he could do was hold Merlin’s hands away from his body, attempting to keep Merlin from accidentally hitting his broken fingers and causing more pain. Merlin would wrench against his grip as Arthur would try to soothe him back to sleep. And he slept, but every once in a while, he jerked or made a quick movement, which scared Arthur, who instinctively thought it was another fit.

But also his questions. The unanswered thoughts buzzing throughout his mind, their tiny pressure forcing him to stay awake. Where the hell were they? What did Rion do? What did he want with Merlin?

_What happened when I closed my eyes?_

He tried again to push the insistent chatter away. Arthur shifted closer into Merlin, begrudgingly allowing himself to admit that he was getting cold. A wave of nostalgia hit Arthur as he leaned in. Even after everything that had happened, Merlin still smelled of home. From Merlin, he was transported back to Camelot. He was at the Round Table with his knights. He was in his bedchamber, looking over reports. He was in the arena, sparring with friends. Caught quite off guard, Arthur felt his heart longing for what he hadn’t realized he had been missing. And as if to make up for lost time, the heartache attacked all at once.

Again, Merlin shifted and a weak groan passed through his lips.

Arthur stiffened, ready to hold Merlin again, but instead, Merlin’s eyes opened and he looked around, confused.

“Hey.” Arthur whispered.

Merlin didn’t respond for a few moments. His eyes still searching for something.

“What is it?” he asked, hoping his question would ground Merlin back to reality.

“Where did she go?”

Arthur felt his blood freeze over. “Who, Merlin?”

“I thought I saw my mom.”

Arthur pushed down wave of sadness that threatened to overtake him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short. I was joking with one of my friends that I "made a filler episode." But in all realness, I kind of want to slow down so that it really feels like Merlin is given some time. The next few will be quite a bit longer, and there will be much whump to come... I hope you all have a good week!


	9. Merlin

Merlin felt himself becoming more and more lucid every time he woke up. The first few times he had awakened, he had been scared. Confused and disoriented. Before Merlin had had a chance to take in his surroundings, his heart would quicken and he would feel the panic, his instincts taking over. And he had been in pain. He would jerk out, his hands smacking into the wall in front of him, and his fingers would light on fire to remind him of their broken state, the fire only scaring him more. His mind was running on those instincts. It told him what he needed to know: that there was still a danger. The dread was quite sharp and alert to the threat, that there was something he needed to be defensive of, but it was also unhelpful in identifying what that danger was. It was the residue of trauma. The disorientation that came before the reasoning.

Each time he was roused, there was always an equally powerful force waiting for him. It came with comforting words and tender reassurance. Its quiet force battled against his raging fear, fighting to bring Merlin back. When Merlin finally had the chance to register his surroundings, he was surprised to find Arthur to be the source. He had always known that his king was compassionate, but it was always hidden behind banter and sarcasm. Or behind closed doors, when Arthur thought no one was there to see him. When Merlin would see Arthur’s shoulders sag and he would bury his face in his hands, allowing himself a solitary moment to feel the weight. Arthur had long been trained to conceal those aspects of himself. Although, to Merlin, those were the most admirable traits Arthur possessed.

When he had become lucid enough to be aware of how close Arthur was to him, Merlin had felt the blood rush to his face. Every breath Arthur took, Merlin could feel on his back. It was rhythmic and soothing, but it was jarring at the same time. Despite everything, Merlin felt a tight ball of contentment swell in the pit of his stomach as Arthur’s gentle breath made the hair on the back of his neck tingle. He shifted is weight, trying to give Arthur more room. He felt Arthur’s arm tighten around his waist slightly, as if asking him not to. Again, Merlin self-consciously thought about the times he had secretly wondered what it would be like to wake up next to Arthur every day. However, he had never thought it would be something that would actually happen. Now he was afraid to move, worried that the illusion would be broken and he would have to face the reality of their situation again.

Merlin fought back against the sleep that was starting to sneak from the back of his mind. He could feel his eyelids starting to drop at the temptation of sleep. But he wanted to stay awake. He wanted to soak in this moment and memorize every detail of it because, in spite of the horror around them, this was one of the most blissful moments he had ever experienced.

Until he heard the door to their cell creak open.

“Aw.” Merlin heard someone chuckle. “Look at the lovebirds.”

In an instant, Arthur’s warmth left Merlin, his arm unwrapping from around him. He felt Arthur’s weight press him closer to the wall, as if Arthur was hoping Merlin would just fade into it. He hated having his back to whoever was there.

It took every bit of strength Merlin had, but he shifted his weight and tried to turn around and sit up, only to come a few inches off of the ground, lose the stamina, and come crashing back down. He hissed in pain, but tried to conceal it so that Arthur wouldn’t hear. It didn’t work though. He felt Arthur’s concern as he shifted his attention from the men blocking the cell entrance to Merlin. Merlin hated to appear so weak in front of them. And without his magic, he felt frail. As if he were nothing. He tried to catch Arthur’s eye. To let Arthur know that he was fine. But before he could, something drew Arthur’s attention back to the cell entrance.

After taking a few moments to recover, Merlin turned his head to try to get a look at them. His neck screamed in defiance, but he pushed through it.

There were four of them. They were big. Merlin shuttered, remembering how, before his magic had been stolen, he would have thought nothing of them. He would have been able to knock them down with a thought. But now…

“Sorry to interrupt, _Your Majesty_.” The biggest one mocked.

Merlin turned his attention to the guard who had spoken, and bristled. There was something about the way that man looked at Arthur. With violence. And hatred. It was a look that radiated so much malevolence that it was palpable. There was no way to misinterpret it. Before his brain could catch up with his urge to protect Arthur, Merlin managed to get his feet partially underneath him. But with the slightest bit of effort, Arthur was able to push him back down.

Arthur didn’t say anything, and he never broke eye contact with that guard, but Merlin could read his body language.

_Stay down and DO NOT draw attention to yourself._

And Merlin hated it.

He could also tell by the look in Arthur’s eyes that he was about to say something back. Something snarky. Something that would get him hurt. Before he could, however, another figure came through.

Rion emerged from between the guards. Cold dread entangled every atom of Merlin’s body at the sight of him, his mind instantly returning to the chains. His fingers began pulsating at the memory. And Rion looked powerful. Merlin could tell that his magic was making Rion stronger, which made him even more terrifying. Merlin knew the strength his magic held, and the idea of it being used against him terrified him. Without thinking, he reached out to Arthur and tried to grip onto his shoulder.

“I hope that you have had some time to recover, Emrys.” Rion said coolly.

Merlin didn’t respond, but he could feel his body starting to shake more and more violently with each passing moment. Now that Rion’s attention was on him, Merlin was petrified. He couldn’t breathe. He could feel his mind starting to slip away. He could feel Arthur’s touch, but even Arthur’s weight, which had made him feel safe, was starting to feel distant to him. It was only Rion in his world in this moment.

Arthur said something, but Merlin could no longer make sense of the words. Instead, his blood raging throughout his body was the only sound he could hear.

“I think it’s time for us to chat again.”

Merlin’s heart stopped.

“NO!”

Arthur leapt at Rion, but before he even got close to him, that guard dashed at Arthur and swung right at his face.

Merlin barely had time to make eye contact with Arthur. He tried to give off an air of confidence, but his eyes must have betrayed his fear. Instead of bringing Arthur back down, to a more level head, Merlin saw Arthur’s eyes turn feral as he began to rip away even harder, trying to free himself from the men’s hold. Merlin tried to get is feet underneath him so that he could at least walk out of there, but the men holding him were moving too quickly. He felt pathetic as his feet faltered. As he was being dragged away, Merlin saw the guard throw another punch at Arthur. This time, making violent contact with his stomach.

The sound of Arthur’s pained gasp for breath was the last thing Merlin heard before he was out of range and to be left to Rion’s mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post a day early! I'm just too excited to share it to wait!


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